


Where There's Smoke

by ranguvar82



Series: Silence and Strength [20]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), M/M, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23109559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranguvar82/pseuds/ranguvar82
Summary: There's the walking anxiety attack that is Crowley trying to cook a surprise dinner for Aziraphale.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Silence and Strength [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630903
Comments: 6
Kudos: 141





	Where There's Smoke

Where There’s Smoke

Crowley stood in the middle of the kitchen, a dazed, lost expression on his face. He never realized that Aziraphale had so many pots and pans and utensils and…

He took a deep breath, counted backwards from ten, then let it out. Dr. Swan had told him that was a good way to calm himself when he felt an anxiety attack coming on. He had been seeing her for about a month now, and so far things seemed to be going well. She had bought his story of an abusive childhood without question, and didn’t press for details.

Okay. He could do this. He’d watched Aziraphale cook hundreds of times over the millenia. It was just a matter of following a recipe. That was all. Easy.

So why did he feel like he was on the edge of a cliff and about to fall off? He couldn’t do this, he was going to fuck it up just like he fucked up everything else, and Aziraphale would scream at him for fucking up his kitchen, his haven, his…

NO. He was going to do this, Bless It! He had the recipe printed out. One with pictures and easy instructions. Spaghetti Bolognese. Nothing fancy, but Crowley hoped Aziraphale would appreciate the effort. He was even going to try to make chocolate chip cookies.

Pot. Which pot was he supposed to use? The big one? No, too big. The small one? No. He felt himself becoming overwhelmed. It was spaghetti, for Heaven’s sake! Why was he twisting himself in knots? He grabbed a pot and flung it into the sink, filling it up to the brim. Now, a saucepan. What the bloody hell was a saucepan? He grabbed something that looked like it maybe could be a saucepan and placed it on the stove, dumping the ground beef into it and cranking on the burner. He did the same with the pot of water. Okay. Now he just had to chop the carrots and open the tomato sauce. Easy.

While he was thinking of it, maybe he should start the recipe for the cookies. Eggs. He needed eggs. And flour. And sugar. And butter. Chips…

Bowls. Mixing bowls. Were those any different from regular bowls? How was he supposed to know what was a mixing bowl? If he used a regular bowl, would it make the cookies comes out wrong? Eggs. Fridge. Butter. Fridge too.

Measuring cup? What? Where...Crowley threw open doors at random, frantically searching for something that resembled the picture. There. Now…

Smoke billowed behind him, and he spun around, gazing in horror at the saucepan. It was on fire, black smoke belching, and he could smell burning meat. The pot of water was also nearly black, and Crowley was pretty sure all the water was gone.

Crowley stepped back, eyes wide in fear, and slipped on an egg that had rolled off the counter and broken. He flailed his arms, lost his balance, and went down hard, pulling the can of tomato sauce down on his head. It shattered, covering him in glass and sauce. The saucepan continued spitting flames, the smoke was becoming overwhelming, and scorch marks were being painted onto the ceiling.

Crowley looked around at the carnage and burst into tears. He knew it, he had fucked up, and Aziraphale was going to be so ANGRY….

“Crowley?” Aziraphale was here, and he was going to scream at him… “Darling, what happened?”

‘T...tried...c...cooking...wanted to...su...surprise...you...’ Crowley was full on sobbing now, his breath coming out in harsh gasps. ‘F...fucked...up...li...like..al...always...’

“Oh, love. You did not fuck up. There’s nothing here that can’t be fixed. What were you making?”

Crowley pointed to the recipe. Aziraphale retrieved it, smiling. “Spaghetti? What a lovely choice. Now, why don’t I get this cleaned up, and you and I can make it together? How does that sound?”

‘W...was gonna...make cookies too.’

“We can do those too.”

Crowley came over and leaned into Aziraphale, inhaling his scent. ‘Love you, angel.’

“I love you too, Star Maker.”


End file.
